


Annihilation

by heavyguiltysoul



Category: All Time Low, The Maine (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, American Candy, Jack is a little cold, Kennedy likes candy a lot, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 13:15:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6080772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavyguiltysoul/pseuds/heavyguiltysoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had never heard a voice so cold. It wasn’t necessarily unpleasantly cold, like a cold cup of hot chocolate. It was more like cookie dough ice-cream, Kennedy thought. He liked cookie dough ice-cream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. o n e

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> playlist: [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZXU2-4owNkI&index=1&list=PLwsPzjMwQZggz4J-DxEM-0ICtA5szCN_-)  
> 

The first time Kennedy saw it he was five years old and alone in a hospital ward next to his grandfather. It was a particularly grey day, and Kennedy had heard his father swear for the first time. He wasn’t sure why adults hated rainy days. Kennedy thought the clouds looked very much like marshmallows ready to be soaked in hot chocolate and the colourful leaves reminded him of different types of candy. Maybe the wind was a little too chilly, biting at his soft cheeks, but even then he smiled and tried to touch the wind gusts with his fingertips. He really had no idea why his dad would compare the weather to poo. Poo was a word he associated with taking his puppy out for morning walks, or with when his mum would force him to eat porridge.  
  
Kennedy was sitting on the corner of his grandfather’s hospital bed, tiny legs swinging back and forth. His granddad had been asleep since before Ken had even entered the room with his parents, so he pouted at his mum when she followed one of the men dressed in blindingly white coats with milk-white teeth out of the ward, leaving Kennedy on his own. She told him to stay with his grandpa, so he did, even though he stomped his small leg against the floor before accepting his defeat and climbing up onto the bed.  
  
He was staring at the clock on the wall, watching the second hand tick and run past the hour and minute hands before the latter two overlapped, the clock showing twelve in the afternoon. Out of the corner of his eye Kennedy could see a dark figure standing by the window, so he turned his head, curious to see who was there. His hazel eyes met a pair of brown ones, and the stranger quirked an eyebrow, his face showing a certain amount of astonishment, like he hadn’t expected the boy to look at him. Kennedy stared at the man’s eyes; they reminded him of the chocolate fondue his mum had made him for his birthday. The man was wearing a dark grey shirt and black jeans but it was his patch of red hair that mesmerized Kennedy. He didn’t like colours that reminded him of the dead of night but he loved how the strawberry red stood out. Remembering his manners, Kennedy hopped off the bed and stood in front of the tall man, looking up at him.  
  
‘Hi!’ he chirped, showing the stranger a wide smile. He was polite like that; his grandmother had told him to always be nice to everyone. At first Kennedy had thought _everyone_ also included inanimate objects and animals, so he had started to apologize to the door for slamming it too loudly, and to his bed when he fell on it too heavily, and to the pigeons by his house for scaring them when passing them on his tricycle. His mum had told him that doors and beds didn’t feel pain, so Kennedy had stopped. He still apologized to birds and stray cats, though.  
  
The excited greeting only seemed to puzzle the stranger more. The silence stretched for about half a minute – Kennedy could prove that because he counted every single _tick_ sound the clock’s second hand made – before Kennedy realized he probably had to say something else to earn a reply. The stranger’s eyes shifted between Kennedy and his grandfather, and suddenly it dawned on Kennedy that the strange man was probably there to see the elder. ‘My grandpa’s still asleep, if you’re here to talk to him. He likes sleep a lot so I don’t think you should wake him up. Last time I woke him up from his nap he took my candy away,’ Kennedy told the stranger.  
  
‘That’s not a very nice thing to do,’ the man spoke and a shiver ran down Kennedy’s spine. He had never heard a voice so cold. It wasn’t necessarily unpleasantly cold, like a cold cup of hot chocolate. It was more like cookie dough ice-cream, Kennedy thought. He liked cookie dough ice-cream. Kennedy tilted his head, observing the man as he made his way closer to the hospital bed. He stared up at the stranger as the dark haired man stretched out his hand, touching his grandfather’s forehead.  
  
‘What are you doing?’ Ken hesitated to ask. He had a feeling the man didn’t want to be questioned but Kennedy was curious and still liked the chocolate pools that were the stranger’s eyes - that being enough of a reason for Ken to trust the man.  
  
‘I’m taking away his pain,’ the man responded, his hand travelling down from Ken’s grandfather’s forehead to his chest, resting above his heart.  
  
Kennedy’s eyes widened and he stepped closer to the stranger. ‘Are you a magician?’ he asked, watching the man’s fingers massage and draw invisible circles onto his grandpa’s chest.  
  
‘Do I look like one?’ the man inquired, looking down at Kennedy.  
  
‘Not really,’ Ken admitted before holding out his hand. ‘I’m Kennedy,’ he told the stranger, waiting for a handshake.  
  
The man looked at the hand and Kennedy’s expectant smile but, instead of shaking it, looked away, disinterested. Kennedy dropped his hand, sticking out his bottom lip. He didn’t like being dismissed, especially not by someone he had declared intriguing. The stranger was odder and more important to Kennedy than the chocolate bar in his backpack, which to him meant a whole lot. ‘How do you take the pain away?’ he asked instead, hoping to earn at least some form of acknowledgement.  
  
‘I set the soul free from the body,’ the man answered, pressing his palm down harder against Ken’s grandfather’s chest. ‘It is then able to leave and find a new vessel,’ he continued.  
  
‘What’s a vessel?’ Kennedy tilted his head, feeling left behind. He had never heard his parents talk about being able to free his grandfather’s soul from his body, so he was excited to see it happen. He didn’t want his grandfather in pain. He had felt pain a few times himself and it had always ended in him biting back tears. Just a couple of days ago he had been running after his pup when his foot got caught in his own shoelaces and he ended up falling face-first onto the hard pavement. He managed to stretch out his hands before the impact so his palms, elbows and knees were the joints that ended up in bruises. Once he managed to get up, the pain seemed unbearable and he couldn’t help but cry for his parents. His mum rushed up to him, scolding him for being so careless but Kennedy didn’t hear it, too focused on watching the strange, dark red fluid dry on his knees. Kennedy hoped his grandpa didn’t feel the same amount of pain, but if he did, Ken was glad the mysterious man was there to help him.  
  
‘It’s a new form, a new body that is still developing and lacking a soul. Once the soul is free, it can choose a new body to rest in,’ the man elaborated and Kennedy found himself nodding even though the concept still seemed odd to him.  
  
‘Do I have a soul?’ Ken asked instead, watching the stranger take his hands away from his grandfather’s sleeping form.  
  
‘You do,’ the stranger assured, his eyes still trained on the sleeping man.  
  
‘Do you have a soul?’ he asked next, climbing back onto the hospital bed.  
  
‘It’s a little different for me,’ the man said with an amused smile before putting two fingers up to the elder's neck.  
  
‘You’re weird, is that why?’ Kennedy questioned and the man breathed out a laugh. Kennedy grinned, proud of himself for making the man in front of him grin so widely.  
  
‘You could say so. But now it’s time for me to leave,’ he concluded and Kennedy furrowed his eyebrows, sulking. The man finally locked his eyes with Kennedy’s again, making the boy’s lips form a smile despite his sour mood. ‘And you’re not all that ordinary either, Kennedy,’ he stated before turning to walk away.  
  
‘Wait! What’s your name?’ Kennedy exclaimed, not wanting the stranger to leave just yet. To his surprise, the continuous beeping sound that had accompanied the room became flat, the high-pitched sound piercing Kennedy’s ears. He looked over to his granddad, poking his hand to wake him up so that he could stop the sound but to his surprise he was met by a limb that seemed almost boneless. He looked back to the window, the stranger watching him with curiosity.  
  
‘I think you’ll find that most humans fear me,’ the man stated and Kennedy blinked, confused as to why anyone would be scared of a man so beautiful and fascinating. He climbed off the bed, his small legs carrying him to where the man was standing by the windows. The stranger watched the boy come closer before kneeling on one leg, whispering something in Kennedy’s ear. The boy blinked but smiled nevertheless, happy to finally know what he guessed was the man’s name.  
  
A minute later the man who Ken's mum had followed rushed in, rudely grabbing Kennedy by his tiny hand and dragging him away and out of the room. He looked back but there was no sign of his mystery man so with a sigh he allowed himself to be shoved towards his mum, looking up to see her wide-eyed and teary. He was puzzled as to why she, as well as the white man were both so terrified of a simple piercing sound. Sure, it was annoying, but in Kennedy’s mind they were overreacting. Instead, he looked up at his mum and pulled at her trousers.  
  
‘Mummy, I met someone nice,’ Kennedy giggled, hoping to improve his mum’s mood.  
  
‘Not now, Kennedy,’ she whimpered, her voice breaking.  
  
‘But he was so kind! He said he was going to help grandpa’s soul,’ Ken explained to his mum. The woman’s eyes widened and she stared at Kennedy in shock, the words burning in her mind along with her son’s oblivious smile.  
  
‘Kenny, sunshine, who are you talking about?’ his mum asked, pulling her son onto her lap as she sat down on one of the chairs outside the ward, tears still streaming down her face.  
  
‘He told me his name is _Death_ ,’ Ken giggled, resting his head against his mum’s chest. All he saw when he closed his eyes was his birthday’s chocolate fondue and strawberries.  
  
\---  
  
  
The second time Kennedy saw it he was fourteen. He had just come home from school, dropping his bag in the corridor before calling out to his mum. He made his way to the kitchen, fixing himself a chocolate pop tart. His mum hadn’t been feeling all that well for a while now yet she refused to call her doctor, claiming it was simply an unfortunate flu. Kennedy’s dad was on a trip and his older siblings had gone straight to their friend’s for a sleepover, which meant that Kennedy was the one who had to take care of his mum. He knew that if he wanted to get some food, he had to order Chinese takeaway before 5pm because after that the phone lines would be going crazy. He scrolled through the menu, taking a large bite out of his pop tart and making his way down the hallway.  
  
It was then that his legs nearly gave out underneath him and his phone slid out of his hands, the soft _thud_ echoing through the house. As he was about to pass his parents’ bedroom, ready to ask his mum if she was feeling any better or if he needed to get her anything from the chemist’s, a man exited the room, coming to a standstill when his eyes met the teenager’s hazel ones. The same man who had been haunting Ken’s dreams ever since he had learnt the meaning of the word _death_. The sight twisted Kennedy’s insides and he found himself leaning against the wall, eyes wide and breath coming out in gasps.  
  
Kennedy whimpered, gaping at the man and hoping to God that he was just imagining things. ‘You can’t be real.’  
  
‘You can still see me?’ the man asked, quirking an eyebrow. ‘That’s new,’ he stated, crossing his arms in front of him.  
  
‘What did you do?’ Kennedy found himself asking, a knot in his stomach and a rock in his lungs. He already knew the answer but he didn’t want to accept it, didn't want to _believe_ it would happen to him yet again.  
  
‘She’s gone, I’m sorry. It was her time,’ the man explained but his tone held barely any compassion, only fuelling Kennedy’s anger more. Was it anger? Ken wasn’t sure. He felt sick, staring back at the man with wide, horrified eyes.  
  
‘It wasn’t her time! It wasn’t her time to leave us!’ Kennedy cried out as tears threatened to spill. He didn’t want to cry in front of this _monster_.  
  
‘I apologize, Kennedy, but it was. She went peacefully, she wasn’t in pain. She was ready to move on,’ he explained and Kennedy finally allowed the hot, angry tears to run down his cheeks as he stepped closer to the man who was now only a little taller than him, pulling his hands into fists and attempting to throw a punch. Unfortunately for him, the man saw it coming and easily overpowered him. Kennedy shut his eyes, expecting to be thrown against the wall behind him but it never came. When he opened his eyes, the man was looking down at him, unfazed by the attempted attack yet studying Ken's face with curiousity.  
  
‘You killed her…You took her away from me,’ Kennedy whimpered, trying to free himself from the man’s grasp unsuccessfully. It dawned on him then that he was standing right by the door. He slowly turned his head, looking inside his parent's bedroom. He could see his mum’s body lying on the bed, her face pale but a blush still visible on her cheeks. ‘Can I say goodbye? Can you bring her back?’ he pleaded, his voice breaking as he stared at the lifeless form.  
  
‘It’s too late. She’s already left,’ the man explained, loosening his grip on the boy’s wrists. Kennedy looked up at him one more time before quietly making his way into the bedroom, rubbing away the salty tears and snot with the sleeve of his jumper.  
  
He knelt by the side of the bed, taking his mum’s hand in his own, brushing his warm fingers against her cold palm. ‘Mum…Mummy, why?’ he choked on a sob, his whole body trembling. A hand touched his shoulder but he ignored it, resting his head against his mum’s palm in the hope of feeling the slightest movement that could prove to him it was all a nightmare.  
  
‘Why can I see you?’ he asked the man behind him. After his grandfather’s death, his mum had sat him down and explained the situation. She had pointed out that Death wasn’t a man; it was a thing that happened to people who were tired of being on Earth and wanted to go to Heaven. Kennedy had shaken his head, saying that the man with the red patch in his hair was definitely there. His mum had ruffled his hair and given him a kiss on his forehead, assuring him that it was just his imagination playing tricks on him.  
  
It took Kennedy a couple more years to learn what death really meant, and when he did, he couldn’t help the nightmares that came accompanied with the face he had seen as a child. The more he read about death, the more it dawned on him that there was no way he could’ve seen it. At the same time, it disturbed him because he was _sure_ there had been a person in his grandfather's hospital room right before he passed away.  
  
And seeing as the man he had just come across hadn’t aged even a little bit, Kennedy knew that everything he had seen was real.  
  
‘I’m not certain. Children can notice me but it’s very uncommon. You shouldn’t be able to see me,’ he admitted, taking his hand away from the boy’s shoulder.  
  
‘So are you really? Death?’ Kennedy found himself asking, staring at his mum’s peaceful face.  
  
The man shifted behind him. ‘I am,’ he affirmed.  
  
Ken leaned over to give his mum a kiss on her cold cheek before getting up from beside the bed, expressionless as he made his way past the man without acknowledging him. He closed the doors behind him, picking up his slightly cracked phone and sitting down in the hallway, back pressed against the wall as he dialled his grandmother’s number.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hoped very much i wasn't the only person who liked the idea of [jack](http://38.media.tumblr.com/f6e87a6188cdb666586f6edeed62f4b4/tumblr_inline_noruaxn1x21sl8nj6_500.gif)/[ken](http://33.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m7gz3pIVgR1rbf0n3o1_500.gif) but then i couldn't find any fics at all so... i wrote my own. as well as a couple of one shots [coming soon].  
> lemme know what you think xo


	2. t w o

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only then did he realize he was crying as well, tears making their way down his cheeks and past his lips, leaving a salty trail behind them. Was Death feeling sorry for him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> playlist: [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZXU2-4owNkI&index=1&list=PLwsPzjMwQZggz4J-DxEM-0ICtA5szCN_-)  
> 

After his mother’s death Kennedy’s motivation to live quickly deteriorated. He showed displeasure in spending time with the rest of his family, mostly staying in his room with Kota by his side. He thought it was strange how dogs seemed to be able to see inside people’s minds, for every time Kennedy’s thoughts wandered too far Kota’s nose poked him in the side, snapping him out of the daze. He appreciated it, running his palm over the dog’s head and smiling at him sadly.  
  
Two months after the funeral Kennedy’s dad found him a therapist and while Kennedy wanted to tell him he knew it wouldn’t help, he kept it to himself because that was the least he could do to make his family happy. He met his therapist once a week and on the one month anniversary of his treatment he was diagnosed with depression. For some reason it didn’t give him any closure at all. He knew that the anhedonia he was experiencing had little to nothing to do with depression. Of course he was sad, how could one not be after losing their mother? But he wasn’t depressed. It had always felt like something had been missing from his life but it had never bothered him until his mum’s death. Since that day, however, he couldn’t shake off that irritating feeling like wires had been disconnected and he wasn’t sure of what he wanted anymore. Everyone else thought he was in denial about his condition, so in the end he just went with it, thinking that maybe if he really was depressed, he could also be cured.  
  
At the start of his sophomore year eight months later his grade predictions dropped from average to low, only adding more stress to Kennedy’s life. He wasn’t trying to spite anyone, like his brother had suggested over dinner a couple of nights earlier. He just couldn’t focus on what he was trying to learn. He had been good at soccer and creative writing but even that seemed rather pointless these days. Despite all the negativity, he made a new friend, and just like that a little more colour came back into his life. The guy was persistent and kept on invading Kennedy’s privacy until the younger gave in and agreed to go over to John’s house and hang out. He found that John looked at the world in a way very similar to how he had a year ago and despite his initial hesitance to allow the boy in his life, he ended up befriending him in the short period of three days.  
  
The period between Kennedy’s fifteenth birthday and his mother’s death anniversary was mostly spent at John’s, the older boy lending Kennedy his guitar and teaching him how to play _That Thing You Do!_ John, in Kennedy’s mind, was a strange being. The more he found out about the boy, the more he started idolizing him, and idolizing someone in a friendship could build barriers, Kennedy knew that. So that was how Kennedy started avoiding most of John’s questions about him and indirectly changing the course of their conversations. John was aware of what was happening but didn’t want to push Ken out of this comfort zone, so instead he focused on just having fun, mind set on making his friend feel better.  
  
\---  
  
Then it happened for the third time. It was the one year anniversary of his mother’s death and Kennedy was sitting by the canal that ran through his city and divided it into two, legs crossed in front of him as his fingers played with the grass. He was vaguely aware it was around midnight and the previously dark blue sky had turned entirely black, sort of like the coffee Kennedy had become used to drinking. A small smile broke onto his face at the horrible comparison. His previously poetic thoughts had become twisted and dark, and all of his comparisons seemed forced and fake. He reached over, his fingertips touching the water as the single stream split into two and washed around his hand. He hadn’t told John about his mother so the excuse he had come up with was that he was spending time with his family while his family thought he was hanging out with John. Kennedy wasn’t sure why he bothered coming up with a lie. All he wanted was to spend the day in his bed, curling up next to Kota, but he couldn’t. He wanted to talk to his mum, to tell her he loved her and how lost he was feeling in life but all he could hear was Kota’s soft snores. While that would usually bring him peace, he couldn’t help the wave of annoyance that washed over him.  
  
So he left the house in the hope of finding someplace quiet. He wasn’t one for wandering around so he had never even bothered walking down the bridge but as the sun slowly started fading away, he decided to settle there and watch as the light disappeared and pulled everything around him into a dark abyss.  
  
That was when his thoughts took a turn he had never really considered before. Maybe the closer he got to dying, the more possible it was his mum would hear him. That was the only thought in his mind as he walked up the stone stairs of the bridge and sat on the railing, overlooking the canal, completely still and staring into distance. He looked down, unable to see anything underneath his worn grey vans but the sound of the flow beneath him calmed his racing heart. He let out a shaky breath and slowly loosened his grip on the railing, leaning forward.  
  
Before he could even protest, a pair of strong arms were wrapped around his waist, pulling him back and into the person’s chest. It happened so quickly Kennedy wouldn’t be sure of what was going on if it wasn’t for where the icy hands had accidentally travelled underneath his shirt, the cold biting at his skin as Kennedy let out a loud screech.  
  
‘Let me go!’ he screamed at the person behind him, attempting to get himself out of the deadly grip, trashing his legs as he was pulled off the railing. Once his legs touched the pavement of the bridge, the grip on him disappeared and he turned around, ready to push the stranger away from him, only to be manhandled before his fists even came close to connecting with the man’s chest. He found himself staring into two circles of dark chocolate as his back was pressed against the railing behind him, his wrists held together in front of him. ‘Let me-’ Kennedy attempted to hide his fear behind a snarl, actually scared for his life now that the situation was slowly downing on him, only to be cut off when the palm of Death’s other hand pressed against his mouth. What was happening? Wasn’t dying supposed to peaceful? He attempted to scream anyway, the sound muffled as the stronger man kept his palm in place over his lips.  
  
‘What were you thinking? It’s not your time,’ the man scolded Kennedy as the boy tried to pull his hands out of the grip but Death’s fingers were pressing into his wrists, almost painfully. He looked up, his eyes once again meeting Death’s narrowed ones as the older leaned in. ‘It’s not your time yet,’ and with that he took a step back, letting go of Kennedy who took a deep breath but didn’t move, frozen in spot.  
  
‘Why are you here?’ Kennedy finally asked, watching Death cautiously as the other man sat down onto the pavement and pulled out a cigarette, leaving it between his lips.  
‘You were about to die, in case you forgot. It’s not your time,’ he shrugged and lit up his smoke.  
  
‘Aren’t you supposed to be happy about that? One more person off the face of this Earth?’ Kennedy’s eyes widened. ‘Wait. Did you… did you _save_ me?’  
  
Death blinked. ‘Yes, I guess I did,’ the man replied, his expression suddenly becoming thoughtful. Kennedy slid down until he was sitting on the pavement as well, staring at Death in confusion.  
  
‘Why?’ he asked and the man in front of him seemed to consider the question. Kennedy was too bitter to be patient though, so instead he let out a laugh and ran his palm over his face. ‘You’re soulless enough to take my mother away but when it comes to letting me go in peace, you pull me back into this hellhole.’  
  
At that something dangerous sparked in Death’s eyes and his face ran through a couple different expressions before going blank again. He gave Kennedy a small, acknowledging nod and in a blink he was gone again, leaving Kennedy on his own.  
  
It dawned on him then what he had been about to do. He had been about to plunge to his death from the bridge; there was no way he would’ve survived the fall and he would most likely have died. His mother was worth dying for but Kennedy knew her soul had already moved on and it was selfish of him to say he’d kill himself for his mum. He was an idiot. He had also been stupid enough to forget to keep his mouth shut when Death had been about to reply. What had the man meant – it wasn’t his time? What did any of this mean? Kennedy’s breath was shaky as he pulled out his phone from his front pocket and sent John a message asking if he was free. The other boy replied within a minute with a _yes_ and then two question marks. Kennedy shared his location and added a ‘ _please come_ ’ to the message before closing his eyes and attempting to take deep breaths. How was he still alive?  
  
\---  
  
_On his sixteenth birthday Kennedy woke up with no expectations whatsoever. Sure, maybe he was a little excited for a piece of strawberry and cream cake, his annual birthday treat, but other than that he had made no plans. Yet despite having no expectations at all he still ended up being kicked in the guts after walking downstairs and finding that no one was even home. There was a small chocolate cake left on the kitchen table and he picked up the note left by its side – an apology from his dad saying he had been called in early that morning and wouldn’t be home until later. Kennedy stared at the piece of paper for a couple of seconds, just letting everything sink in until he was overcome by the strangest urge to just scream. He didn’t. He wasn’t going to cry over a cake. Of course his dad would get him a chocolate cake. He loved chocolate. He liked chocolate more than strawberries and cream. It was just the simple memory of his mum getting him that specific cake for every single birthday after Kennedy had foolishly stated he would never get tired of strawberry and cream cakes on his sixth birthday. His grandmother had got him one the previous year, obviously aware of how much it meant to him. He crumpled up the note and threw it in the bin._  
  
He had no idea where his siblings were, and he couldn’t believe that they would actually leave him on his own on his birthday out of all days but for some reason he wasn’t all that surprised. He swallowed down the sob and took a deep breath, willing himself to be strong and stop being silly. After cutting himself a piece of cake and making a cup of coffee, he pulled himself up the stairs and into his room, ready to spend the entire Sunday binge-watching The Twilight Zone.  
  
That didn’t end up being the case. At around midday his phone rang, the sound cutting off the episode Kennedy was watching. With a sigh he paused the series and reached over to grab his phone, accepting the call.  
  
‘Hey! Are you doing anything today?’ John’s hyped voice came through, making Kennedy’s lips twitch despite his sour mood.  
  
‘No, I’m home,’ he replied, rolling over in his bed to grab the cup of now cold coffee. He grimaced in disgust when the cold drink hit his taste buds but swallowed it despite wanting to spit it out. He pulled himself up from the bed and made his way downstairs, ready to make a new cup.  
  
‘Great!’ John exclaimed over the phone before hanging up and as Kennedy was about to walk past the front door, the bell rang and the younger tripped, crushing into the wall and dropping the cup. With a sigh he looked down at the mess before reaching over to unlock the door for John and pulling himself to the kitchen to grab a paper towel. Of course he’d be too clumsy for his own good on his already miserable 16th birthday. ‘Oh, man, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,’ John said regretfully, stepping over the puddle.  
  
‘It’s alright,’ was Kennedy’s reply and he quickly cleaned up the mess, thankful for the linoleum floor. ‘Why’d you come over?’  
  
‘Ah, house’s empty and I was bored. Thought I’d come here and jam with you,’ John explained with a grin, shrugging his shoulder so that Kennedy would see the guitar bag on his back.  
  
Kennedy’s lips twitched up into a smile. ‘Yeah, that’s cool. Anything to drink?’  
  
‘Just a coke,’ the boy replied, kicking off his Converse and running his hand through his hair, the brown mess jumping to life.  
  
‘Want some chocolate cake?’ Ken asked, picking up the soft drink can from his fridge.  
  
‘Nah, it’s cool man,’ John popped it open, taking a sip before following Ken upstairs with a smirk the younger one was unaware of. Once the two boys were back in Ken’s room, Ken fell back onto the bed and moved to make room for John, crossing his legs in front of him as he picked up his laptop and closed the episode he was watching.  
  
‘So, what were you thinking-’  
  
John cut Kennedy off. ‘Did you really think I’d forget?’  
  
‘What?’ Kennedy asked, furrowing his brows in confusion as John’s face broke into a grin. The older shrugged his guitar bag off his shoulder and opened it up, picking up his guitar. It was the same as always, except this time it was graced with a badly tied blue bow around its neck.  
  
‘Right, so, sadly I’m not rich and I could only afford a new synthesizer with the money I had saved up… But I know you’re more than crazy about this baby here, so I know she’s in good hands,’ John said with a genuine smile. ‘Oh, right, and here’s chords for some of the songs you’ve kept bugging me about,’ he added, pulling out a small paper notebook from his back pocket and handing it to Ken, who took it and stared at it dumbly. The handwriting on the cover was messy, definitely John’s, reading ‘For Ken’, and it was a little torn in the corner. All in all, it was very John and that was what made Kennedy look up at his friend with watery eyes.  
  
‘John, I can’t-’  
  
‘Oh, be quiet. You’re my best friend and you deserve this. Plus, it’s also my one year anniversary present for our friendship! Thanks for not killing me!’ John said with a smile, dropping onto the bed next to Kennedy, guitar on his lap. ‘Now come on, let’s finish learning that cover we started last week so that I can blow your kitchen up attempting to bake a vegan strawberry ‘nd cream cake. The recipe seemed legit but you can never know these days, the Internet is fucked up,’ he babbled on and Kennedy choked on a sob before his face broke into a grin.  
  
\---  
  
_He was out in the mall with Alex, a friend of his and John’s since the two of them had moved to Baltimore, when Ken’s phone rang, the word _Unknown_ flashing on the screen. Kennedy picked it up with a smile that dropped seconds later, the monotonous voice explaining that Kennedy was written down as one John O’Callaghan’s emergency contact. His eyes went blank and he nodded as the person on the other side of the phone explained the situation to him. Alex was staring at him in worry, a questioning look on his face but Kennedy was looking past him, hands shaking as he pressed the _End call__ button.  
  
‘Kennedy?’ Alex asked, watching his friend who was now as white as a sheet.  
  
‘We have to go to the hospital,’ Kennedy whispered and Alex’s brows furrowed, waiting for an explanation. However, all he was greeted with was Kennedy grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the mall. Once in their car, he unlocked his phone and handed it to Alex. ‘Call John’s parents.’  
  
‘What?’ Alex asked, still dumbfounded.  
  
‘Just… Just tell them to come here. There’s been an accident. They have to come here,’ Kennedy said, voice breaking but he swallowed down the sob and gripped the wheel tightly, starting his car and heading for the hospital.  
  
It came as no surprise to him that once Alex saw John lying in the hospital bed plugged into the system the waterworks started. Kennedy wasn’t heartless, of course he wasn’t, but he couldn’t deal with the stuffy air in the room so after Alex had calmed down, Ken left the room, saying he needed to get some water. John’s parents called him, saying that the earliest flight they could get was two days from then and he told them he wouldn’t leave John’s side for a moment. So after giving himself a pep talk in the bathroom mirror and picking up a bottle of water, he went back to the room and stayed there until the closing hours. He drove Alex home and stayed over, making sure Alex ate something and fell asleep before he himself settled on Alex’s couch, staring at the ceiling. That’s when the tears started rolling down the side of his face and quiet whimpers left his mouth as his mind ran through the different scenarios of what could happen from that point on. He stayed awake all night, getting up at seven to make Alex a cup of tea because he could hear the muffled sounds of his friend’s sobs through the eerie silence of the house.  
  
\---  
[song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dgx1Q0yNG_g&index=6&list=PLwsPzjMwQZggz4J-DxEM-0ICtA5szCN_-)  
  
The fourth time Kennedy saw him was a few weeks before Kennedy’s nineteenth birthday. The car that had crashed into John’s had come from the left turn, meaning it ran right into the driver’s side. The ambulance had been able to perform CPR on John but John’s doctor told Kennedy there was very little chance John would wake up because his brain had been left without oxygen for a critically long time. Kennedy nodded as he listened to the woman talk, feeling numb. He had been visiting John’s hospital room every day for the past week and a half, having moved in with Alex as the boy lived closer to the hospital, while John’s parents had moved into Kennedy’s apartment. Time seemed to pass slower than ever before, every day being the exact same – Kennedy would wake up, make himself a coffee and then spend hours in the sickly white room, staring at the pale, ghostly shell that was left of John.  
  
He thought it was unfair how John still managed to look so pure and handsome even whilst in this hideous hospital ward. He didn’t look like a man dying, and that’s what kept pulling at Kennedy’s heart, the void hope that John could wake up, that John wasn’t gone yet.  
  
So he did what he could, intertwining his fingers with John’s and hoping the other man could feel him and hold on. The phone flashed on the table with a message from Alex, stating that the boy had bought them some lunch and was going to be in the hospital in a few minutes. Kennedy stared at his phone, cold settling in his bones, but it wasn’t because of the message. The numbers 11:59 were gracing his lock screen, and at that moment he knew.  
  
The second his phone jumped to 12:00, Kennedy looked up at the window, his eyes meeting the pair of chocolate browns he’d already gotten used to, as unnerving as the fact was. Kennedy stared at the man, a mix of emotions flooding his chest. The man hadn’t aged one bit and still looked like he was in his early thirties, a thought that was unsettling because Kennedy wasn’t that far off being twenty. He was no longer a child, mesmerized by the stranger’s mysterious aura, nor was he a teenager, blaming Death for all the problems in his life. Instead, he was reaching that point of maturity where his brain was telling him that he was on an almost equal level with the man in front of him, if not for the obvious difference of Kennedy being an ordinary human and Death being, well, _Death_.  
  
The moment was broken when Death’s eyes flickered to John’s comatose body, Kennedy’s eyes following his gaze. ‘He’s still there, isn’t he?’ Kennedy asked, squeezing John’s hand.  
  
‘He is,’ Death’s voice rang through the room. Kennedy remembered it being more distinct, more powerful, but his head snapped up when the unmistakeably human voice reached his ears. The picture Kennedy had painted in his head over the past few years after learning the meaning of the word death was one of dark, cold aura and eyes filled with apathy. However, in the light of the day he was reminded of the pale figure with dark features that had first intrigued him, with the same weird strawberry red patch in his otherwise pitch black hair that he had seen back when he was five years old. The man’s eyes were filled with unspoken sorrow and still reminded Kennedy of chocolate, even after all of those years of hating him.  
  
‘Is he saying anything?’ Kennedy enquired, forcing himself to look away.  
  
‘Not much. He says he’s fine, and not in pain. That he’s angry it happened. Also that you’re a…’ Death’s voice cut off and he blinked before clearing his throat. ‘Yeah, a string of swear words regarding the fact you never told him you could see me.’  
  
Kennedy smiled sadly, letting go of John’s hand. He wanted to tell John how unfair this was, how he couldn’t leave, how he needed him, how Alex loved him. Instead he stayed quiet and watched as Death walked over to the bed and reached to press his palm against John’s forehead, much like Kennedy remembered him doing to his grandfather.  
  
‘Stop,’ Kennedy surprised himself when the word left his lips, Death freezing in place. ‘Can you… Can you wait for Alex to get here? He needs to say goodbye,’ he said, biting his lip. He couldn’t let John go before Alex told him how he felt.  
  
To his surprise, after hesitating for a while, Death took a step back and walked around the bed to lean against the wall in silence. Kennedy checked his phone, time reading fifteen past twelve, meaning Alex would be there any second. He got up from the chair by John’s bed and gave his sleeping friend a squeeze on the shoulder. ‘I love you, buddy. Thank you,’ he whispered before moving away. Just as he had predicted, Alex walked in a minute later with two plastic bags but upon seeing the strange expression on Kennedy’s face, he immediately went white.  
  
‘Ken?’ he asked, furrowing his brows again, hating being clueless.  
  
‘This… This isn’t going to make an awful lot of sense, Alex, but… I need you to talk to John. Tell him all there is to say because… Trust me, please,’ Kennedy said, his throat closing up as he watched his friend frown and open his mouth, ready to ask what Kennedy was on about. ‘Please,’ and with that Kennedy left the ward, unable to be there any longer and not wanting to intrude what he knew would most likely end up being Alex finally admitting his feelings to their friend. If there was one thing Kennedy couldn’t block out, it was how utterly unfair the world was being to his friends. He had always teased the two of them about liking one another and _this_ was not how it was supposed to end.  
  
After throwing some cold water onto his face in the bathroom, he cautiously made his way back to the ward, knowing whatever he’d be greeted with wouldn’t be pretty. The moment he opened the door, no matter how ready he thought he was to face the reality, the world came crashing down on him. Alex looked up for a second, eyes full of tears, and the haunting high pitched sound went flat, signalling John’s death. Alex immediately looked back down and pressed his face against John’s chest as his frame shook with sobs. Death himself was at the corner of the bed, looking up from John to Kennedy.  
  
There were a lot of things Kennedy doubted in life but there was no way he could’ve imagined the pained expression that flashed over Death’s face. Kennedy knew better than to think Death was feeling sorry for allowing a soul to move on, so he let his fingers travel up his face. Only then did he realize he was crying as well, tears making their way down his cheeks and past his lips, leaving a salty trail behind them. Was Death feeling _sorry_ for him? He wiped the tears with the sleeve of his jacket and stepped aside, allowing the doctor and nurses to rush into the ward.  
  
He could feel the ghost of a hand on his shoulder, a comforting gesture, and for some reason he felt gratitude. ‘His last thought was that he loved the two of you as well,’ Death’s voice stated with a soft undertone but when he looked up to where he thought Death would be, he was greeted by an empty space. As the nurses pulled the crying Alex away from John, Kennedy wrapped his hands around his friend and let him cry on his shoulder while staring at the now lifeless body of his best friend.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi. feeling very self conscious about this one. eh.  
> im a bundle of sad vibes right now.  
>   
> [content sigh](http://33.media.tumblr.com/0c32d4d156b0b682a22faa2a4c0315f7/tumblr_inline_mnrbj0E6BC1qz4rgp.gif)  
> 


End file.
